Socrates the Kitten
Socrates the Kitten
I think my kitten should be taught to read
Or else he’ll grow to be a stupid cat,
And that would be an awful thing indeed
To have to have a stupid pet like that!
I want my little kitten to be smart
I even named him Socrates, because
I think philosophy should be the start
Of everything my kitten thinks or does.
And so I walk with Socrates each day
And say to him, “Now say your ABCs.”
But all he says is “meow,” then runs away,
Although I think he does it just to tease.
I’ll read to him from Shakespeare’s plays tonight
And then I’ll try to teach him how to write.
Spilled Milk
Spilled Milk
It’s no use crying over milk they say,
If you should find you’ve spilled it on the ground.
But please don’t think I spill it every day,
Or just because my mother’s not around.
I’m not a naughty girl although its true
I’m not supposed to give milk to the cat,
Or to the kittens, little darlings who
Don’t understand a selfish rule like that.
So, like they say, I never shed a tear
For any milk by accident I spill.
Nor do I think I’ll ever need to fear
Of being caught; I’m sure I never will.
Don’t cry–Spilled milk–I now know what they mean–
Because the cats will come and lick it clean!
Kittens Grow Up
Kittens Grow Up
I used to hold my kitten in my hands,
A tiny ball of fluff and fuzzy fur.
As kitten grows, my love for him expands,
A fact of which I’m absolutely sure.
He’s still a baby kitten in my heart,
And in my eyes he’s certainly as dear.
It’s not much fun for us to be apart,
And so I pick him up and hold him near.
But now he’s big enough to fill my arms,
And lifting him is not an easy task.
His size must be because of all his charms.
I’m not sure what he weighs, so please don’t ask!
I love my kitty, and I’m sure he knows
I’ll love him more however big he grows.